


Heart of the Land

by lab



Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: Gen, M/M, Magic Revealed, Reveal
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-02-01
Updated: 2012-02-01
Packaged: 2017-10-30 11:19:19
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,138
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/331193
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lab/pseuds/lab
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Thank you, amikara, for the quick beta and cheerleading, you mad this one so much better! <3Written for the prompt: <i>Prompt: would love a drabble Arthur/Merlin reveal fic please =D Would be most appreciated if it wasn't to angsty. </i> [Written for the <a href="http://merlin-games.livejournal.com/18922.html?thread=249322#t249322">Merlin Games Holiday Gift Exchange</a>]</p></blockquote>





	Heart of the Land

**Author's Note:**

  * For [happyevraftr](https://archiveofourown.org/users/happyevraftr/gifts).



_"Mer_ -lin," Arthur said, "Are you sure you know where you are going? Are you even sure you know what the trail of a bear looks like? I bet you wouldn't know what a bear is if it bit you in the arse." Arthur was in a good mood, that was something, Merlin thought, as he led them both deeper into the forest.

"Are you listening to me, Merlin? You are going to clean all my armor, scrub all the floors and muck out the stables of the entire kingdom if I'm going home without a bear hide today-- considering you, I’d say any critter’s hide will do. I might also take yours if that bear doesn’t show up any second now.”

Merlin closed his eyes and tried not to think about the crossbow Arthur carried that Merlin had assembled and waxed the night before, loaded and heavy in his hand. Merlin swallowed hard, but walked on, if he turned back now, he’d never find the courage again. 

He had felt it ever since he had set foot into Camelot, the pulse of magic that had rocked him into sleep in Ealdor was only a faint hum here. It grew weaker and weaker with every sorcerer’s blood Uther spilt, with every passing year that no sacrifice was made to the Land, and with every hour a dragon lay chained under the castle. 

The compulsion to use magic, to free the Land, to let Arthur see what he was grew stronger and stronger every day, like an itch that spread on his skin and would not go away. Helping Arthur by using magic made it bearable, but the two lives he lived and the two faces he wore would only keep in place for so long before they - and he - fell apart.

Besides, he did not want Arthur to go to bed every night and think he alone was Camelot’s saviour, the pompous brat.

And, of course, Merlin only started to believe the dragon and its riddled bouts of orders after the unicorn. After Arthur had placed Merlin’s life over his own. In order to repent for killing a magical creature he had had no respect before the Land decided to discipline him by punishing his people, 

That was when Merlin had known that he had to make Arthur see. Make him see that he needed courage, strength and magic to free the Land and to build Albion. That he needed Merlin. 

He had to show Arthur that courage, strength and magic were tied to each other and that one was useless without the other. 

Besides, Arthur had almost caught him yesterday when he stopped a cup from toppling over in mid-air, and while Gaius nagged to much about the gift of magic and its noble purposes, Merlin agreed that Arthur shouldn’t see magic up close for the first time like that.

Arthur shouldn’t see him like that, really see him, for the first time, clumsy and lazy, because while he certainly was that, sometimes, Merlin knew that it was the best disguise, even if it stung.

He tried to ignore the crossbow in Arthur’s hand and lead him away from the kingdom and its weak heartbeat, to a clearing he had discovered when he had left Ealdor for Camelot.

Dried oak leaves, curled up along their spines cracked under their boots echoed by the gusts of wind, that shook the last of the leaves to the ground, specks of yellow and red amidst the muddy brown. A chill settled over them as they walked deeper into the forest, Arthur settling into a strained silence behind Merlin.

 _A knife in his boot, a dagger on his belt, he can take the rations and water from my field bag,_ Merlin thought. Arthur could make it back to Camelot alone before midnight, if he wanted to.

"Ouch," Merlin said unconvincingly, as Arthur threw a pebble at him.

He stopped in his track and spun around, before Arthur could throw another thing at him and everything would continue with painful normalcy. “Merlin! What is wrong---" Arthur almost bumped into him with a sound dismay that sounded a lot like “imbecile idiot”.

 _"Feorhlíf,"_ he whispered, the spell simple and desperate. _Life. Show Arthur what life of the Land means._

He let his head fall back and looked at the sky and welcomed the rush as the blood of the land flowed through his body. It had taken him a while to figure out that magic was in the Land just like magic was in him, and that Arthur needed him not to use his magic, but to understand the Land.

He couldn't help but laugh, a bright, shrill laugh that drowned out the wind and wondered if Arthur felt it, too. 

This was him, this was his blood. 

Flickers of gold, not bigger than fireflies, but as bright and hot as embers floated around them, drifting in and out of the mosses and leaves, the ground, Arthur's coat and hair. 

_This is the Land._ And if Arthur was courage, as the Fisher King said he was, this would be their land, free of fear and alive with magic.

Merlin caught a few of the lights in his hand and opened his a breath away from Arthur’s face, watching the flames dance on his palm. "Sprites of the forest," he said and when he looked at Arthur, he could feel his eyes glow in the same, hot gold, "they wish you well." 

Arthur didn't look at him, his face knotted into a tight scowl. Merlin could see the tension in his shoulders, coiled in his muscles, his fist curled around the grip of his crossbow, ready to strike.

And then Arthur showed that he was courage.

He reached out and touched one of the burning sprites with the tips of his fingers. "They don't burn me," he said, with as much surprise as resignation in his voice.

"It's the Land -- I --- it would never hurt you, Arthur." I would never let it, Merlin thought.

He watched Arthur touch one of the sprites again, fingers pushing through the center. He tried to keep the rush of hope from bleeding into his grin, but when he felt Arthur’s palm against his, clammy with sweat but firm and solid, he found that he couldn’t.

"Are you a druid?" The question was as much a statement as Arthur offering him a last chance out, but Merlin just shook his head, the magic too hot in his bones to deny it, even if he wanted to.

" _No._ " The answer was as raw and confident as the gold in his eyes.

Arthur still didn't look at him, but his fingers curled around Merlin’s hand long after the last sprites had gone. 

Merlin squeezed Arthur’s hand. They would build Albion together.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you, amikara, for the quick beta and cheerleading, you mad this one so much better! <3Written for the prompt: _Prompt: would love a drabble Arthur/Merlin reveal fic please =D Would be most appreciated if it wasn't to angsty._ [Written for the [Merlin Games Holiday Gift Exchange](http://merlin-games.livejournal.com/18922.html?thread=249322#t249322)]


End file.
